


Nothing to lose

by Goldpeaches



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Butterfly Effect, Gen, Mental Health Issues, Mutilation, PTSD, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-20
Updated: 2013-05-20
Packaged: 2017-12-12 11:20:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/811003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Goldpeaches/pseuds/Goldpeaches
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ori is convinced the company would be better off if he hadn't come so Gandalf shows him a world in which he never joined the quest.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nothing to lose

**Author's Note:**

> Written for this promot at hobbit-kink.
> 
> One of the dwarves is convinced the company would be better off if he hadn't come so Gandalf casts a spell to show the dwarf what would have happened and just how much of an asset he is. (would love with Kili or Ori)

“Ori, what is bothering you, my dear fella?” Gandalf’s kind voice makes the young dwarf jump. He hadn’t noticed anyone approaching and is slightly uncomfortable, when the wizard sits down on a rock next to him. It isn’t because he doesn’t like Gandalf, quite the opposite, really, he just doesn’t know how to talk to him without sounding stupid.

“I’m sorry,” he says and tugs on his gloves nervously. “I didn’t mean to alarm anyone. I just wanted to sit by myself for a moment, if that is okay.”

Gandalf doesn’t take the bait. Instead his looks at Ori with those bright blue eyes.

“You almost died today,” he says pensively. “That must be very difficult for you to come to terms with.” 

Ori shakes his head no. 

“It’s not that.” There is a small pause before it breaks out of Ori. “I almost killed my brother. Dori almost died because of me. If you hadn’t been there…”

“But I was and he didn’t.” Gandalf replies, running his hand over his staff, which had saved both Dori’s and Ori’s lives today.

“Yes, but what about the next time I get in trouble and someone has to save me?” Ori can’t hold Gandalf’s gaze any longer and whispers to the ground instead. “I should go home now. I wish I never came in the first place. I am not helping anyone.”

“And how can you be so sure of that? Sometimes the smallest act of courage turns out to be the greatest one.”

“But I don’t have any courage. I shouldn’t be here, Mister Gandalf. Could you please tell me of just one time that I was helpful to anyone?”

There is a long pause in which Gandalf lights his pipe and blows a few smoke rings into the night sky. Ori is sure that Gandalf is wrecking his brains to come up with an example, but fails because there simply isn’t one.

“I cannot tell you,” Gandalf finally answers, “but I can show you. I can show you a world in which you never joined the company, if that is what you want.”

“Yes! That is what I want,” Ori says immediately. “I mean, please, if it’s not too much trouble.”

“It isn’t,” the wizard replies in a reassuring tone and detaches his waterskin from his belt. He reaches for Ori’s empty cup which has been sitting beside him and after he filled it with water he holds it in his hand for a moment until it is hot and steaming. After handing it to Ori carefully, he searches the pockets of his robe.  
He finds, what looks like a small ball of dried worms and drops it into the cup, where it turns soft and squishy, breaks apart and dissolves before Ori’s eyes.  
Gandalf whispers a few words in a strange tongue and looks at Ori closely.

“I cannot tell you what world you are going to see if you drink this. It may be better or worse. It may not be what you wish to see.”

Ori stares into the cup thoughtfully. Drinking the tea will mean the end of his journey. Once he has seen how happy everyone is without having to worry about him, he will find the next opportunity to leave the company. It saddens him a little to see the adventure end. He has learned and seen so much, but ultimately, this isn’t about him and he can’t be selfish and stay with the group just for his personal gain.

He brings the mug to his lips and drinks. The tea is bitter and unpleasant and it makes him so… very… tired… He can feel his body sagging and is asleep before his head hits the ground.

 

Ori awakes with a start. He is still at the bottom of The Carrock, with the river Anduin rippling and the dark forest Mirkwood looming in the distance. He is slightly disappointed for not having seen anything at all in his dream.

“You’re back quickly,” Gandalf says, sounding oddly pleased. He is still sitting on that rock, puffing away on his pipe.

“I don’t think it worked,” Ori replies and feels the need to add an “I’m sorry.”

“Let’s have a look, shall we?” Ori picks himself up off the ground and feels oddly light. An effect of the tea, he assumes, and follows Gandalf to the camp. No one notices him, but that is not unusual. No one _ever_ notices Ori, unless he needs to be rescued again.

Bombur is cooking and Óin is sorting herbs. Glóin is brushing his beard and sitting by the fire are Dwalin and Bofur. 

When Ori approaches the fire he notices Dwalin, who is wrapped up in wool and fur blankets and seems to struggle to keep sitting upright. Even in the shine of the fire, his face is pale, with dark circles under his eyes and even though he is shivering there is a layer of sweat on his skin. He has a cough that sounds like a bark and leaves him gasping for air.

“Mr Dwalin!” Ori clutches his hands to his own chest in sympathy. “Where are your hat and your scarf?”

“He cannot see you,” Gandalf says gently from behind. “You’re not here.”

“But Mr Gandalf, you don’t understand. He is ill and he doesn’t have any hair to protect his head. I made a hat for him.” Ori turns around to look at Gandalf, silently asking him to do something, but the wizard only shakes his head. “I made a hat…”

“You didn’t. Not in this world.”

Ori can hardly bear to listen to another coughing fit that shakes Dwalin’s body. It sounds too painful to endure.

“He will be okay, won’t he?”

“I don’t know,” Gandalf replies gravely.

“Shut up, shut up, shut up, SHUT UP!” 

Ori whirls around, the words “I’m sorry”, already on his lips, before he realises that no one can hear him.

Bofur has his eyes fixed on Dwalin and breathes heavily through clenched teeth.

“You have to make noise all the time. All the time.” He rubs his hands over his face fanatically and then scurries to pick up lose papers that are scattered on the ground around him. “All the time. You just can’t shut up for just one second. I need to think! I need to think, I need to think! And everybody is like, oh Bofur, make sure you write down this and that and every little detail. And I can’t think when you make that noise all the time. All the time. Just shut up!” The rant doesn’t even seem to be directed at Dwalin, who has been silent for the duration. Bofur scribbles a few lines on a random piece of parchment. “I need to think. And I can’t even write. Good job making me the scribe! Shut up! Everybody just keeps talking!” He hits his head with his hands a few times, hard enough to make Ori flinch. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. Chronicling the journey is a demanding job and Ori truly feels bad that the responsibility has fallen into Bofur’s hands. “Please stop hitting yourself.”

He turns way to look for someone to help. Glóin is still working on his beard, braiding beads into the red stands.

“We would make such a fine king,” he declares to his mirror image. “We look like a king. We act like a king.” He smoothed down his moustache proudly. “All we need to do is take care of the one who calls himself king. Tonight, when he is asleep...”

“Is… Is he going to kill Thorin? What do I have to do with that? I would never…”

Ori’s thoughts are interrupted by Thorin striding towards the fire, majestic and strong as always.

“Balin, I need to see you to discuss our next move. We’ve been cooped up under this rock for days. Fíli, Kíli, go see if there is a bridge anywhere near to cross the river.”

“Balin is dead.” Gandalf’s voice close to his ear makes Ori jump.

“What? Dead? How?”

“A troll stepped on him. After grabbing Nori you distracted him, remember?”

Ori nods slowly. He doesn’t like where this is going.

“Well, you weren’t there, he didn’t come after you, instead, he stepped on Balin.”

With a little squeak, Ori clasps his hands to his mouth. 

“That’s horrible! I didn’t mean for this to happen!” 

“It pushed Thorin into madness. He simply doesn’t acknowledge anything of what is going on around him.” 

“How do you know that?” Ori whispers through the fingers pressed to his mouth.

“I’m a wizard,” Gandalf replies simply and that seems to be enough of an explanation for Ori.

“Then, please, can you tell me, if my brothers are well?” 

“You should see for yourself, that is why I brought you here.” Gandalf gestures towards Bombur and Óin, who walked into a small cave in the rocks, carrying bowls of food. Ori follows them, but hardly dares to slip into the cavern. Terrible, heart-breaking cries almost stop him, almost make him turn to Gandalf to tell him that he has seen enough.

“Please don’t touch me again. Please! Please don’t touch me!” Kíli is curled up in a ball on the ground, sobbing and begging to be left alone. Bombur approaches him, making soothing sounds, telling him that he has to eat something, but Kíli is too far gone to understand. “Please make it stop. Please kill me.” 

“If he doesn’t want to eat, he should at least take the medicine to keep him calm,” Óin suggests and Ori watches in horror. Bombur pins Kíli to the ground, sitting on his chest, with his knees securing Kíli’s arms, even though the young prince struggles and screams hard enough to make himself sick. He holds Kíli’s head and forces his mouth open for Óin to pour liquid inside and then seal it with his hand until Kíli finally swallows the medicine. When he becomes a lifeless, whimpering mess, Bombur finally leaves him alone.

“The goblins,” Gandalf explains, before Ori can even ask. “They did start with the youngest. They tortured and raped him.”

Imagining that this could have been him, makes Ori’s stomach turn and he has to swallow hard to keep from being sick as well. 

“But why didn’t Thorin…” Ori pauses. He knows the answer already. Thorin was mad with grief over Balin’s death at that point. “What about Fíli?” He has come to know the brothers well enough to know that Fíli would never allow anything so horrible to happen to Kíli.

“Oh my…” Ori instinctively reaches for Gandalf, because he feels like he is about to faint, when he sees Fíli, or what is left of him. His once so beautiful face is torn to shreds. There is a hole where his eye used to be and his chest is scratched so deeply, Ori can see a few ribs. “Gandalf, you have to help him!” Fíli’s gasps for air are few and far between. His body is fighting a battle that is lost already, because even to Ori it is clear that Fíli is dying right now, in front of his eyes. 

“The warg you shot with your catapult, before we went to Rivendell attacked Fíli from behind.”

“He has been like this since Rivendell?” Ori wipes at his eyes. He cannot belief how much pain and grief he has caused his friends. “I am so sorry. I wish I could have done something…” Ori crouches down next to Fíli. He knows that he cannot be seen or heard or felt, but he can’t stand the thought of Fíli dying alone. He sits, silently weeping, until the fight is over and Fíli is finally allowed to rest in peace after days of agony. Gandalf whispers a few words to accompany the young dwarf on his journey into the afterlife and pulls Ori to his feet.

“You are not done here,” he says gently and Ori follows him. He sees Bifur, whose hands and feet are bound with rope. “He has to be restrained. He has become increasingly violent. Do you know why?”

“I haven’t been around to listen to him.” Ori had found out very early on their journey that Bifur was very frustrated with the way the others treated him. No one ever made the effort to even try and understand him and so Ori had taken the time, every evening, to sit with Bifur for a while and even though he was hard to understand, it had made the older dwarf very happy to talk to someone. “He isn’t violent, he just needs someone to talk to!” He can see the self-inflicted scratches on Bifur’s hands and face and feels incredibly guilty for thinking that he wasn’t at least a little helpful to anyone.

“Achrâchi gabilul.“ _I’m sorry._

His attention is caught by movement in the darkest corner of the cave. Gandalf illuminates his staff to allow Ori to see. His breath hitches and he is unable to hold back a desperate sob.

“Nori, no!” He covers his eyes with his hands at the sight of his brother. “I told him this would happen if he keeps stealing things.” There are thick bandages wrapped around Nori’s arms where his hands should be. His hands, though, they are gone and Ori has no doubt that they have been removed as a punishment for stealing, because he wasn’t there to keep his brother from falling back into his old habit. It is Ori’s fault that his brother can’t even take care of his own hair anymore, which has always filled him with so much pride. “Why, Nori? Why did you have to do it?”

“Dori, where have you been so long. We’ve been worried.”

Ori whirls around to the entrance of the cave to see his beloved oldest brother. He hardly recognises him. His hair isn’t braided neat and proper like it used to be. His beard is almost completely gone, and it looks like most of it has been ripped out. There is an angry, red scar running across his face from his mouth to his forehead.

He gives Fíli’s leg a kick with the tip of his boot.

“Boy’s dead,” he announces and walks past him. “There was a wolf-pack. I followed them, killed them, brought them back here.”

“All by yourself?” Bombur stops feeding Bifur and looks up at Dori in disbelief. 

“You’re welcome,” Dori’s tone is sharp, as if he expected a “thank you”. “Now at least we’ve got something to eat.”

“You shouldn’t put yourself in danger like that,” Bombur protests and Ori nods forcefully.

“I’ve got nothing to lose.” Dori shrugs his shoulders and Ori can’t help himself. He rushes over to his brother and tries to hug him, but he passes right through him, trips and falls. He hits his head on the ground and blacks out.

When he wakes up, Gandalf is sitting next to him puffing away on his pipe.

“Go hug him now, Ori, and don’t ever think again that you are not important.”

Ori nods, thankful and understanding and scrambles, but stops to turn around before running off.

“Mr Gandalf, do you know what happened to Bilbo? Without me?”

Gandalf blows a ring of smoke and smiles mischievously.

“He never came. It was your bravery that convinced him to come. Your idea of giving the dragon a taste of dwarfish iron right up his jacksie?”

Ori blushes a little, smiles back and thinks that everyone should get a hug today.


End file.
